


place daturas on my grave

by ceruleanVulpine



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Gen, Vague Suicidal Ideation, canonical character death - referenced, not netflix canon compliant, sad kit 2k19, this is the only snicketverse thing i’ve written that isn’t lemony narration and boy it’s weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanVulpine/pseuds/ceruleanVulpine
Summary: “What kind of flower is that?”Kit started to saywhat flower, and then stopped, hand going to her lapel. The flower in her buttonhole was past wilting, now, and starting to dry out, shedding petals at her touch. She had forgotten it was there, in the commotion.---Kit can’t rest yet.(aka, netflix kit isn’t nearly sad enough, someone’s got to make up the difference)





	place daturas on my grave

“Excuse me,” Quigley said.

Kit looked up. “Yes? I would be happy to answer your questions, but I’m afraid we don’t have much time—“

“What kind of flower is that?”

Kit started to say _what flower_ , and then stopped, hand going to her lapel. The flower in her buttonhole was past wilting, now, and starting to dry out, shedding petals at her touch. She had forgotten it was there, in the commotion.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not much of one now.” She could hear her own voice shake.

Of course Jacques Snicket had had a funeral, but not the kind that was safe for his fellow volunteers to attend. And — there might not have been time, anyway. There were so many things to be done, and she was only one person, bereft of associates and of brothers. The flower had been the best she could manage.

Her current associate was curling into himself, staring at his hands instead of meeting her eyes. “I thought it might be a code,” he said. He opened his battered and waterlogged commonplace book and held it out like a peace offering, although he didn’t look up. White catchfly for betrayal, Kit read, upside down. Marigold for grief. Datura, _I dream of thee_. “I read about it, in Dr. Montgomery’s library—“ Her silence made him falter.

“You’re a skilled researcher,” she said, reminding herself that he had worked with Jacques too. _Tell him it’s a code, Snicket. Don’t scare him away. You need him._ But all she could think of was Lemony sitting cross-legged in her floor with his accordion in his lap, composing: 

_Place daturas on my grave,_  
_and dream of me when I am gone_  
_Hold on to everything I gave,_  
_but dearest, you must carry on—_

“Daturas are poisonous,” she said, running her finger down Quigley’s notes to the right line. “Eating them, or drinking a tea made from their seeds, will cause hallucinations and then death.” 

If she had a datura for Jacques, and one for Lemony, and another for each of the people she had lost, she could fill a room with them. She could fall asleep under a mountain of sweet and deadly flowers and dream of a world that was not so dark. But there was so much work still left to do.

She pulled the wilted flower out of her coat. “We don’t have time to talk about this,” she said. “We need to keep going. Where to next?”

**Author's Note:**

> “Place Daturas On My Grave” is one of the songs Lemony mentions playing on the accordion in the Bad Beginning rare edition footnotes, but it’s fictional, so the lyrics as written are by tumblr user jewishsnickets (with slight changes by me). 
> 
> hope you enjoyed! :’)


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